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fandomhigh2005-10-25 11:20 am
isnotimportant.livejournal.com) wrote in fandomhigh2005-10-25 11:20 am
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Cookery course is still open.
There is a note on the door of the professor's classroom/kitchen.
The professor's construction platform wheezes to a halt outside the window of his room. The professor steps from the platform, through the window and onto the countertop. He leaps nimbly from there to the floor. The frogs are nowhere to be seen -- play has yet to commence for the day.
He reaches through the window and drags a large cardboard box from the platform through onto the counter. He presses a couple of buttons on the remote, and the platform recedes into the distance once more.
He collects a handful of knives, in a variety of sizes, including one which is curved and scooped -- almost like a spoon with a blade. He sets these down on the table. From a cupboard somewhere, he produces a small box of candles.
He drags the cardboard box to the edge of the counter and then eases it down onto the floor, after which he slides it across the room towards the table. He opens the top of the box, and produces a pumpkin, about a foot across. The box is easily large enough to contain a dozen more. He wrinkles his nose in distaste.
Just so long as no-one makes me eat any pie made from this thing. Or soup.
He selects a pointed knife, of medium size, and taps the blade speculatively against his teeth as he studies the surface of the pumpkin.
Seasonal Skills Today, a special session on cutting, carving and scooping. |
The professor's construction platform wheezes to a halt outside the window of his room. The professor steps from the platform, through the window and onto the countertop. He leaps nimbly from there to the floor. The frogs are nowhere to be seen -- play has yet to commence for the day.
He reaches through the window and drags a large cardboard box from the platform through onto the counter. He presses a couple of buttons on the remote, and the platform recedes into the distance once more.
He collects a handful of knives, in a variety of sizes, including one which is curved and scooped -- almost like a spoon with a blade. He sets these down on the table. From a cupboard somewhere, he produces a small box of candles.
He drags the cardboard box to the edge of the counter and then eases it down onto the floor, after which he slides it across the room towards the table. He opens the top of the box, and produces a pumpkin, about a foot across. The box is easily large enough to contain a dozen more. He wrinkles his nose in distaste.
Just so long as no-one makes me eat any pie made from this thing. Or soup.
He selects a pointed knife, of medium size, and taps the blade speculatively against his teeth as he studies the surface of the pumpkin.
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Ummm ... no, you don't have to sign up. Just be sure not to eat or otherwise injure any of the other students or staff, and clear up any of your mess.
He points around the kitchen.
Fridge, sinks, dishwashers. That sink and that sink for handwashing, the others for equipment. Gas oven, electric oven, tandoor, barbecue... oh, you can see as well as I can.
Grab a pumpkin from the box and have at it. Just don't expect me to eat any.
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He makes a crust for it and then begins to put it all together. He notices however that he has way more filling than crust. Not wanting to waste any, ha makes another crust, except there's still to much after that.
After three pies, Jonathan finally runs out of filling. He puts them into the oven and waits for them to cook.
What on earth am I going to do with 3 pumpkin pies?
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